


i'll call you by my name

by ourlovelybones



Series: evak | tumblr posts [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon Compliant, Drama, Fluff, Future Fic, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlovelybones/pseuds/ourlovelybones
Summary: a good man is hard to find – but not if you just stop thinking too hard.the one where isak and even are in love but sometimes the demons in isak's mind make it hard for him to fight them off of on his own.





	i'll call you by my name

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the sweet [Natalie](http://gnomediscourse.tumblr.com) for being such a lovely beta!
> 
> this is based off of this [quote/post](http://hooligannon.tumblr.com/post/128829335412/marry-me-so-i-can-film-you-doing-regular-everyday) i found on tumblr :)))

_ "Call me by your name and I'll call you by my name," which I'd never done in my life before and which, as soon as I said my own name as though it were his, took me to a realm I never shared with anyone in my life before, or since. _

 

**_It_ ** starts when he is ten, and the only person who will play with him on the playground is another scrawny boy named Jonas Noah Vasquez. 

Jonas has tanned skin, a kiss from the sun that never went away like the kind of tan Mamma's sister gets every other month. He has curly hair with wild wild curls that sometimes cover his green, green, green eyes. They're even greener than Isak's, but not like the color of grass or serpents. A subtle green. A quiet green. A green that hides behind curly eyelashes that are really quite pretty. 

_ {his older cousin said he's not supposed to say that about boys, so he never tells Jonas that he wishes his friend wore more of the color green, because it brings out the green in his eyes behind the curly eyelashes} _

Isak's not pretty. Not really. 

He knows he's not ugly, per se, but he's not the kind of boy that makes girls stop in their tracks and "fawn over him." Mamma says - when she's not yelling verses from the Bible at him, an action Isak is finding less and less endearing as time goes on - that he just needs time to "grow" into his face and "develop" a bit more. 

Pappa gruffs and gruffs that it doesn't matter what he looks like - he  _ should  _ be focusing on his schoolwork. 

So he does. 

He focuses on his schoolwork, keeps his nose tucked in a book, while Jonas bats his pretty eyelashes and pretty green eyes at the girls on the playground. They all like him - Ingrid, in particular. 

One day when they're fifteen, Jonas mentions, "I think I'm going to ask her out."

"Who?"

"Ingrid."

"Oh, okay."

"Are you going to ask anyone out?"

There is someone Isak  _ kind _ of wants to ask out. 

This person sits next to him in the classroom with wildly curly hair, a little bit longer than it was when they were ten. This person wakes up and puts on whatever flannel or hoodie passes his smell test when he picks them up off the floor. This person talks animatedly about skateboarding, about surfing, about the evils of capitalism, about how pretty Eva Mohn's eyes are and how lovely her long, mermaid-like hair is. 

_ "She talks kind of funny." Isak makes a face when he catches Jonas staring after her a little bit too long, her loud and lively laugh carrying across the halls.  _

_ "I think she sounds like an angel." _

What's worse is that Eva  _ is _ , in fact, an angel. She's sweet and kind and patient, which is why it shocks the hell out of Isak when he finds out the two of them are seeing each other behind Ingrid's - the girl Jonas had asked out, thank you very much - back. 

He wonders how they do it - how they can look themselves in mirrors after kissing behind Ingrid's back, and not grimace. How they can walk past the windows of stores and marketplaces without glaring at their reflections, staring back at them. 

For the most part, he's a good kid. He walks Lea in the morning and cleans up after her, he brings Mamma a glass of water before she wakes up and he gets ready for school, he never brings home a paper with a mark less than a 5. 

Yet, his stomach twists and twists at the sight of the person staring back at him. The too lanky limbs, the moppy blond hair that never seems to frame his face the way Jonas's does. His eyes aren't as green as Jonas's. His nose is shaped so plainly, so boring. 

For the most part – he’s a good boy. For the most part – he does good things.

Yet, he never, never, never likes the image staring back at him.

 

I.

 

Then he meets the sun, watching back at him in human form, with the bluest eyes and brightest smile.

_ His name is Even Bech Næsheim and he makes your heart do funny things. _

He makes Isak’s heart feel a little lighter, when he passes him the joint and reads into his eyes, as if staring into the very depths of his soul. Maybe he’s pulling out Isak’s secrets – the deepest, darkest secrets that Isak will never be very proud of – and he’s bringing them to the surface, as if to say  _ your secrets are my secrets _ . He doesn’t judge Isak, not in the slightest.

He makes Isak’s heart hurt when he introduces her as “ _ This is Sonja, my girlfriend” _ and kisses her on the lips, with his pretty, plump, pink lips that Isak wishes were on his own.

He makes Isak’s heart flutter when he challenges Emma “Touch-My-Bra” Larson’s twisted and stereotypical view of gay men, when he stares Isak directly in the eyes while kissing the girl he claims to love with more heat and more passion than he’s giving her, when he steps into the kitchen, steps closer to Isak, makes a dumb joke about Sonja having an aluminum leg, steps closer to Isak, leans his head in closer to Isak, and –

_ Goddamnit, Noora! _

He makes Isak’s heart skip two beats, skip ten beats, skip twenty, thirty beats when he asks what time it is  _ (It’s 21:21. Serr? Ja.)  _ and tells him to hop on the back of his bike as they pedal down the streets of Oslo, the wind blowing in their faces. His heart skips two beats, skips ten beats, skips  _ twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty  _ beats when he kisses him underwater and Isak can’t breathe, but he’s not drowning, oh no. This is a good kind of flustered; confused and hopeful and passionate, and it lasts until morning, until the afternoon, until the next evening, until the next night.

He makes Isak’s heart twist and throb painfully when he sends that text, ‘ _ Sorry but I think we’re going too fast _ ,’ when he kisses Sonja -  _ “Sonja and I decided to take a break…” “I’m sorry if it makes you sad” “…Sad? I’m not sad! _ ” - on the lips with a smile, the same - but slightly less dimmed - smile he had on less than a week ago in Isak’s bedroom.

_ You can hate me now. But I won’t stop now. _

He makes Isak’s heart hurt again when they pass by each other in the canteen, when he sends Isak that drawing but never responds to his text message.

He makes Isak’s heart jump out of his scrawny, bony, pale chest when he stands outside his door, two minutes after texting, ‘ _ where are you? Can we talk?’ _ when he kisses him with the same passion, the same fire he did that Friday night, so many nights ago. When he smiles at Isak before going down on him.

He makes Isak’s heart break when he walks out of their hotel, their heaven, with no clothes on his back and no particular destination in mind, when Sonja looks him in the eyes with pain and anger and spits out, ‘ _ you think he loves you? This is just some sick idea in his head!’ _

When he sends that text, ‘... _ in another universe, we are together for eternity. Remember that. Love you. Even.’ _

When he walks out of the double doors, dressed in every hoodie, sweater, and scarf he owns.

But he makes Isak’s heart whole again. After everything. Through it all.  _ And in the end, I’d do it all again.  _

They heal together. The sun and the moon. 

_ Voici le soleil, au clair de la lune. _

 

II.

 

Isak doesn’t quite get what Even sees in him.

Even has the body of a Greek god. Even has the heart of an angel. Even is a masterpiece, a work of art that should be in a museum. 

He takes care of Isak when he’s sick or grumpy (or sick  _ and _ grumpy – an awful combination that he can’t figure out why anyone would even want to be in his presence when he’s feeling this way).

_ “Baby, just try a little bit, okay? I promise it’ll make you feel better. It’ll only take you ten seconds.” _

_ “It’s disgusting.” Isak whined petulantly, burying his face deeper into Even’s chest, who loves him so much he let him curl up next to his warm body, despite his deeply disgusting runny nose and sore throat. _

_ Even rubbed his back. “But it’ll make you feel better.” _

_ “You make me feel better.” _

_ Even kissed his forehead and wrapped his arm tighter around Isak’s feverish, sick body because he was just too good for this universe. “You’d make me feel better, too, if you weren’t infecting me with germs.” _

_ He laughed as Isak tried to shove him off and push away the offensive bottle of medicine that will supposedly make him feel better, even if it tastes like poison. _

He packs Isak’s lunch when he wakes up early enough before his shifts at Kafebrenneriet, leaving him little notes in the paper bags.

_ ‘Do you like raisins? How about a date? Elsker deg, Even’ _

_ ‘Did you feel my shirt this morning? It’s made of boyfriend material. ;) Elsker deg, Even’ _

_ ‘Did your license get suspended for driving me crazy? Elsker deg, Even’ _

_ ‘Did you just come out of the oven? Because you’re fucking hot <3 Elsker deg, Even’ _

Even holds Isak’s hand when they’re at the cinema, or at the grocery store, or at the flea market, because he knows that the girls who sometimes stare at him make Isak grumpy and moody, and he kisses the lines in his forehead away. 

He sings him silly pop songs in the morning, when it’s far too early for either of them to be awake, but Isak’s in his third year now and Universities care about attendance records and marks and he wants to apply for UiO with Even, even if Jonas and the boys poke fun at him for needing to be near him all the time. So Even wakes up at the crack of dawn, scrambles some eggs or melts some cheese on toast or puts cereal and milk in a bowl, and sings him into a slightly less grumpy mood – some mornings, he can get the tiniest of smiles out of Isak.

Even has the body of a Greek god. He has the heart of an angel. He is a masterpiece, a work of art that belongs in a museum.

 

_ What the fuck does he see in Isak? _

 

III.

 

They're fooling around one day in the kitchen when Even notices  **_it_ ** . 

They're in the kitchen because why not, it’s  _ their _ kitchen, and they can kiss and kiss and kiss without worrying about someone disturbing them. Even had put on  _ that _ Gabrielle song, the one he’s always singing in the shower, the one that makes Isak pretend to grimace.  Even if secretly he might actually like it.

He’s so fucking charming and beautiful, dancing around the kitchen, with the goofiest smile Isak’s ever seen on a 21-year-old.

Their kisses become heated rather quickly and Isak's going to town on this boy - his boy -  _ "my boy" _ \- because Even loves, loves, loves it when Isak does  _ that thing _ with his tongue when,

 

_ WHAM! _

 

Isak sees stars for a few moments, then everything goes black. 

 

IV.

 

It's a bit embarrassing to have to tell your doctor you were too busy giving your boyfriend a fucking mind-blowing blow job to properly calculate the distance between your head and the silver handles on the cabinet, so Isak tries to come up with an excuse.

“Ja, um, I walked into a, uh, door.” He mumbles, rubbing the sore spot on the back on his head. He can feel the bruise forming, the tender skin throbbing a little as he keeps running his fingers over it.

His doctor looks at him skeptically. “A door?”

Isak nods his head vigorously. 

His doctor sighs and signs something on his clipboard, taking one last look at Isak’s head. “Alright, Mr. Valtersen, you bumped your head pretty hard, but you got lucky and made it out without a concussion. Just be careful with your, ah, doors next time.”

He nods before he leaves Isak in peace, Even flying in the room right behind him. He immediately reaches for Isak’s hands, his eyes wide with concern and near fear. “Are you okay?”

Isak’s bottom lip pouts out unconsciously. “I’m sorry.”

Even’s wrapping his arms around Isak’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Why are  _ you _ the one who’s sorry? You wouldn’t have hurt your head so bad if it weren’t for me.”

“If it weren’t for me screwing everything up, none of this would’ve happened.”

Even pulls away from him briefly, Isak nearly whimpering at the loss of contact. “Baby, what are you talking about?”

Isak’s tired and he doesn’t feel like explaining  **_it_ ** , the sense of dread that curls in his stomach when he looks at himself in the mirror, the heaviness that weighs down on his shoulders that keeps him all up night when he thinks about all of the wonderful things Even does for him and the burdening sense that one day he’s going to realize all of this isn’t worth it, that there’s someone out there who’s more attractive, who’s kinder, who’s smarter, who’s more talented and passionate.

“You haven’t screwed up anything up.” Even says softly, his hand rubbing up and down Isak’s back. His breath feels warm against his neck.

Isak pulls Even closer to him, between his legs dangling off of the hospital bed. “You deserve someone who won’t nearly get a concussion because they were blowing you,”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” Even interrupts him gently. “Why would you even think about something like that?”

_ As if this thought hasn’t crossed his mind every fucking day. _

Even pulls away to cup his hand on Isak’s cheek. “I love you.”

The words are invisible string that tug on the corners of Isak’s lips, dragging them upwards into a reluctant smile. “I love you more.”

“Don’t think like that. Tell me when those thoughts are running through your head and when your heart is too heavy to carry them by yourself. We’re in this together, Isak. Forever and fucking always.”

Isak’s smile widens until he’s looking up at Even with lovesick eyes to match his lovesick heart. “Forever and fucking always.”

 

V.

 

Even’s parents advise against it and their friends make fun of them for being so codependent, but it makes them happy to go to University together.

Even’s still a year older than him, so it’s not like they’re  _ always _ together. Even’s majoring in Media Studies and Isak’s majoring in Biochemical Science, so it’s not like they’re taking the same classes and always sitting next to each other.  Honestly, they’re lucky to see each other during the weekdays. When Even can wake himself up before Isak’s rushing off to his early 8:00 Labs or when Isak’s not too exhausted from the day to heat Even up a quick dinner of leftovers when he comes strolling in well after dark.

Sometimes Even’s out a little too long for Isak’s liking, filming with  _ that girl _ from his media class who stares at him  _ far _ too long for Isak’s liking.

It’s easy for the demons to come racing back into his mind, crawling back through the corners of his brain that are more vulnerable, taunting and whispering,

_ “I bet  _ _ she _ _ doesn’t nearly get a concussion when giving head.” _

_ “I bet  _ _ she _ _ doesn’t have to be asked to do the dishes or clean the bathroom every once in awhile.” _

_ “I bet  _ _ she _ _ doesn’t wake up in the morning, with a rat’s nest to call as her hair or –” _

And sometimes, it’s easy for Isak to stop. Why the hell would  _ either _ of them know what her hair looks like in the morning? That’s simply the demons talking.

But sometimes, it’s not as easy.

Sometimes, Even comes home with a smile on his face and is in such a good mood, that Isak can’t help but wonder.

What could she have said that put him in such a good mood? Isak can never live up to that. He’s not funny. He’s not charming. He’s not kind or endearing. Why can’t Even just realize that he’d be so much happier with Miss. Snotty Pants Who Always Puts a Smile On His Face sooner than later so the wounds would hurt less?

Those are the nights where Isak will curl up into his side in their bed, when Even’s brushing his teeth or singing to himself in the shower. When Even comes back into the bedroom, with only the lamp in the corner for dim lighting, and sees Isak hiding under the covers, trying to make himself as small as possible, he  _ knows _ .

He knows to quietly hum to himself as he puts on his nightclothes and makes sure all the dishes are put away, that the stove is turned off, that the heating system is turned low enough so their bills won’t come back next month at an astronomical rate. He knows to slip into bed beside Isak, leaving the light on just as a source of comfort, and hold his hand, rub his back, smooth back his hair, run his fingers up and down Isak’s cold, cold arms.

 

“I love you.”

_ But what are you waiting for? Cause someone could love you more. I’m just a lost boy, lost boy. _

“I love your eyes. I love your hair. I love your skin. I love your nose and I love your mouth – you know how much I love your mouth.”

_ But what are you waiting for? Cause someone could love you more. I’m just a lost boy, lost boy. _

“I love how passionate about science you are. I love how your brain works, always finding solutions even when it doesn’t seem like there are any. I love how creative you are, even if you don’t want to admit it. How soft you are, how intuitive you are, and how kind you are.  I love how protective you get over your ideas, when you’re fighting for something you believe in. When you’re fighting for me.”

_ But what are you waiting for? Cause someone could love you more. I’m just a lost boy, lost boy. _

“I love everything about you. Every damn thing. I’ll be yours even after the stars fall from the sky, even after the rivers all run dry, even after the day I die.”

_ But what –  _

Well.

Isak thinks he likes the melody of Even’s song better. 

_ Even after the stars fall from the sky _

_ Even after the rivers all run dry _

_ Even after the day I die _

_ I am yours and you are mine, together until the end of time. _

 

VI.

 

Isak turns 21 on the 21st of June after they’ve finished taking all of their exams for the year. Even’s almost finished with University now, less than a year left to go, and Isak’s not too far behind him. Even’s thinking about studying abroad. Somewhere far maybe, he told Isak a long time ago, _‘so_ _I can get more experience. More experience around the world – seeing people of different cultures, you know? Maybe California. L.A would be pretty fucking cool, right?’_

So in about three months, they might be separated for six months – separated by meters and meters of the Atlantic Ocean, by miles and miles of the Earth’s land, by minutes and minutes of the time zones. 

Isak tries not think about it. 

He’s getting better about not thinking about  **_it._ **

Even loves him, unconditionally. Even loves him even when he’s scatterbrained and forgets to bring his dirty plates and cups to the sink when he’s finished, when he drinks a little too much and Even needs to stop whatever he’s doing and come take care of Isak. Even loves him when he’s having trouble with Pappa and adds a little more snark behind his words than normal.

So in about three months, they could very well be separated for six months.

But Even will love him through every meter, every mile, and every minute.

He keeps that thought in his heart, tucked away for the quiet nights when he needs it most. Not the loud nights full of bright lights and loud music. His beautiful boyfriend and his fantastic friends have thrown him a party in the park. There’s a plastic table full of their favorite foods and sparkling wines and beers galore. There’s a radio that Mahdi and Vilde bicker over for control but Jonas intervenes and puts on a chill playlist he digs off of Spotify, that two of them don’t  _ completely _ hate.

The sun takes its time to set on these summer evenings, painting the sky a golden orange with faint pink shadows. Isak is content. He’s got a beautiful boyfriend and fantastic friends and a working heartbeat.

He doesn’t really need anything else, he doesn’t even really need presents.

But at 21:16, Even insists.

At 21:17, Isak shrugs it off and wants to cut the cake.

At 21:18, Even insists a little more and turns off the music.

At 21:19, Isak’s not paying attention to the time and wants a slice of the damn cake.

At 21:20, Even hands him a little box – a smaller box than last year, but Isak won’t make  _ too _ much of a fuss about it – and kisses him sweetly, but chastely.

“I thought about doing this like a movie.” He says before he slowly starts to bend down to the ground and, oh fuck Isak should stop fucking thinking about the fucking cake because oh fuck what the fuck. 

“There are so many I could choose from, you know. The Proposal, When Harry Met Sally, Runaway Bride, Pretty Woman, Love –“

Someone behind him –  _ was that Magnus? _ – clears their throat.

“Right, right! But then I thought, there’s no movie that could rival what we have. There’s no other set of characters who could even come close, no other story that’s even worthy of replicating – when we have our own.”

No, Isak is  not crying, thank you very much. He just has a twig, probably a  _ fucking branch _ , in his eye.

And at 21:21, down on one knee, Even unwraps the ribbon from his small box and pops it open to blind Isak’s tears away. “Marry me, my love, so I can film you doing regular everyday shit and I’ll edit little movies of our lives so you can see how beautiful you are to the rest of the world, and I can call you by my name.”

And at 21:21, on the 21 st of June, in the 21 st year of Isak’s life –  **_it_ ** finally ends when Isak utters two simple words with the brightest eyes and the brightest smile, " _Fuck yes!"_

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked this :-)
> 
> let me know what you think down below or come talk to me on [tumblr](http://ourlovelybones.tumblr.com) xx


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